Progression
by BreaktheLogPose
Summary: They are a crew like the sea in every way.
1. Chapter 1

_Must. At least. TRY. To. Write. _

The thin, murky line between ocher sea and violet sky has been unchanging for hours. He lost all feeling in his butt about twenty minutes ago.

Experience has taught him that there is only one way to keep entertained on long stretches of night like this. Books cannot keep his eyes to the seas like they need to be. That, and he has thumbed through every page in the library by now. Zoro's mindless training diagrams and Usopp's do-it-yourself directions can only entertain a man for so long. The flit of a flame from his lighter has long since lost its appeal. And, with Luffy's exhausting adventures, it's a rare occasion indeed when someone sacrifices precious sleep to pay the poor sap on watch a visit.

The mind, however, is endless. The mind shows him the crooked, beckoning fingers of effervescent spirits—tantalizing dreams of someone he cannot hold or the feel of his toes dipping into waters he cannot see. The play of light against orange or black or blue hair and the wafting scent of a meal he cannot name. He sees familiar smiles of yellowing teeth and eyes he knows better than his own with glittering ambitions.

He doesn't remember where his dreams and desires end, and where everyone else's begin.

Before, when it was only he, only him leaning over the railing of a rocking fish-ship with the stink of raw catch and his cigarettes in his nose, his mind was so much less. He closed his eyes and pretended the roll of waves under his shoes and the boat's planks was the brine of All Blue. It was only one dream there, with a few snatches of a woman's curves thrown in.

Now, it is a crown only in name and a sword thrust high into the air. It is as much feet to the dirt as ink on paper. It is the recognition of self and the dissolution of every hollow void. It is an answer to death until it is time, a song for worthy ears, and a home to carry them across the seas. Theirs is as much All Blue as the every fish swimming in the collecting water.

His mind is endless because they made it so. He is done adventuring it, for now, when he finally sees where the horizon stops and starts.


	2. Chapter 2

_Sometimes, I am overcome with the incredible urge to see Luffy drive a car. And then I remember he'd probably kill someone. Also I was going to write Frobin, but it didn't work out and I am a failure to my ship. _

_Obviously AU because Oda is wise enough not to let Straw Hats have motor vehicles. _

—

"Oh yeah, Franky's great!" Luffy reassures as he swerves across three lanes, jumps the curb, and nearly mows down an old woman. Robin delicately folds her hands in her lap and watches the pedestrians flee for their lives. "He swears he's gonna add laser beams to this bus he's fixing up. _Aaaaannnnnd_ it gets better!" The young man looks straight at Robin as he almost crashes headlong into a stop sign. In an easy movement, Robin leans over and gives the steering wheel one firm tug in her direction. The car neatly avoids plowing into a McDonald's.

"Does it now?" Robin prompts further. Truthfully, she's not particularly interested in the man Luffy has time and time again assured her will fix up her car like new. As long as the vehicle was in good enough shape to drive, she'd be content. Robin had learned to live with what means she had available. Nevertheless, Luffy didn't assign his trust this thoroughly to just anyone. She had long since learned it would be wise to listen.

Luffy glances over his shoulder, one arm thrown over the back of his seat, and then shouts, "Missed it!" The steering wheel spins several quick revolutions, and there is the accompanying, deafening screech of tires. Robin can practically smell the burnt rubber. The horns of offended drivers blare as Luffy makes a U-Turn through two yellow lines Robin is positive Luffy should not be going through. She doesn't make to mention it though.

The car gives a hard jerk over the curb and Luffy bangs his head on the roof. He acts as if he hadn't even felt it though, and thankfully, Robin had been quick enough to duck. "It does! He gave Usopp an ejection seat!" Luffy continues his praise with ease. He parks the car with another violent protest of his tires, and then promptly slumps into his seat with his arms folded over his chest. "He said I can't have one though." Robin doesn't doubt the mechanic's judgment on that part. Luffy would undoubtedly deploy the device without a second thought. Just for fun. While it would be entertaining to watch him and his seat land on some poor, unsuspecting person, she wouldn't want Luffy to get sued or the like. Their motley group didn't know a good lawyer. Yet. With their gang, you never knew who you were bound to meet.

"Such a pity. Maybe one day," Robin clicks her tongue, and then climbs out of Luffy's car. The vehicle is painted a brazen red, though it would be hard to tell under the caking of dirt and the mass of scratches that have accumulated along the car's sides. Robin wonders how the thing still functions, sometimes, but then attributes it to Luffy's tremendous amount of luck. And perhaps, even, the skill of this mechanic of his. She wonders how the mystery man hadn't had a heart attack and died right then and there when he'd first seen the car. That would have been an interesting sight to behold.

A cursory glance about the front of the shop, and Robin can see neither hide nor hair of anyone. Still, the place certainly gives an impression. It's green bricks, with a twisting blue roof and a crescent moon insignia painted across one side of the building. On the front, 'Franky House' in bold, yellow and red letters. Robin, while intrigued as to what would possess anyone to decorate a business like this, is not overmuch impressed with the decor. It's all a bit gaudy for her tastes. "Is your mechanic here?" Robin inquires, hands clasped behind her back as she leans over to glance at her companion. Luffy has a hand on top of his hat as he admires the place. Finally, he nods.

"Oh yeah, they're probably just arguing or partying or something."

"Splendid. They sound just like our sort of people."


	3. Chapter 3

Green is the color of freedom.

It is the mikan groves, lush and fragrant, in the summer. It is the smooth, glossy feel of a leaf between the pads of her thumb and forefinger. It is damp grass in the morning curling between her toes.

And then it is money. Crisp and worn, it has seen more hands than she knows people and bought more than she can ever dream to afford. It is the wrinkled imprint in the paper and a number that tells her how much her village is worth.

Green is her key, not her freedom, and she needs _more_.

Nami had been sewn inside her own skin with a needle digging ink into her arm. The pain, of the moment, had been inconsequential in comparison to the realization that she had been branded as property. She had been as good as cattle, driven like cattle.

She hated the mark, and her arm, and the ink sinking into her skin like poison.

When she would sail, she would recall just how sea spray and sunshine once felt on bare skin. But the tattoo did not have the right to see day. Arlong deserved what rebellion Nami still had in her.

Red is the color of freedom.

It is the banners of war found in the blood running slick down her arm and that proud, bold vest. It is the band pulled tight across a hat perched sideways on her head, with her fingers digging hard and pleading into the curved, straw rim. It is the dried imprint of her toil being turned to splinters.

It is, briefly, the seething heat in the edges of her vision, and the violent crack her staff makes when it meets the colonel's jaw. It is that just as much as it had been Luffy's fury and his fist digging knuckles into giving, grey flesh.

It is the right to have the sun against her skin for far too long, and an inability to care. Just to love the sea and sky and how they feel as they embrace her.

Then, finally, it is laughter. A loud and harsh, unfamiliar bark; it breaks into the evening with all of the finesse and subtlety of a hammer against glass and continues on long into the night.

Red is freedom in its essence and she does not need more. She wants it.


End file.
